


Absolution

by wastelandbabyx



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Blood and Gore, Caesar’s Legion, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastelandbabyx/pseuds/wastelandbabyx
Summary: Slight spin-off of Mojave Baby where courier six joins the Legion.
Relationships: Female Courier/Vulpes Inculta, Vulpes Inculta/Original Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

The travel from Goodsprings to the Mojave Drive-In had been quiet, save for the slow, melodic tune that played from the pip-boy clasped on her wrist. Footsteps padded in union across the warm desert sand, a courier and her nightstalker. Every bit like some old world fictional tale, except most didn’t quite end quite like this.. 

They’d been admiring the larger than life decrepit drive-in movie screen setup when she’d heard the noise coming from somewhere in the distance. Sunset had begun shade everything in seas of hazy yellows and orange, so it came as no surprise as to how they’d been able to blend in against the painted Mojave.

Taking aim with the 9mm submachine gun Doctor Mitchell had agreed to let her have after she’d tinkered with some repairs, she fired towards them, her feet moving in simultaneous motion to put distance between herself and the oncoming Cazadors. Meanwhile, Argon took action of his own, giving a warning rattle as he lowered down onto his front haunches, fangs bared and ready. 

Due to the quick and erratic flight pattern, taking down the insects had proven to be no easy task. They had her swarmed and in formation within moments, and as she tossed the 9mm, her hand reaching instead for the combat knife fixed to her hip, they had begun an intricate dance. Her hand and body moved in sync, dodging protruding stingers as her hand lashed through translucent wings, leaving Argon to finish the rest. 

However, a single misstep had proven to be inopportune as the last remaining Cazador had managed to plunge it’s stinger just shy of the area underneath her ribs. The world around her seemed to slow just momentarily as she turned to meet it’s gaze. The blood-red ommatidias reflecting from the glare of sunfall before a slender blade slid into the playable flesh, the motion repeating until the mutation lay still at her feet.

Her breathing was labored, brought on by the aftershocks of her sudden adrenaline rush. She had been poisoned, and knew she had to work quickly if she didn’t want to succumb, once more, to a close death. With Argon trailing at her heels, she began trudging in random direction as she worked to pull the pip-boy map up on her arm. She was certain she’d traveled too far to return back to Goodsprings in time, but just a ways North had a marker on the map of something listed under **Nipton.**

Whispering her thanks to all her lucky stars, she continued onward. Perhaps she’d make it just in time, and boy was she certain Doctor Mitchell would get a laugh out of that. Perhaps he’d been right in his hesitation to let her leave, so hell bent on her destruction and yearning for a death wish. To think she could’ve joined the NCR instead of leading such an extravagant life as courier six. From her pip-boy, the voice of Mr. Vegas emerged over some light radio static. 

_“..and now Nat King Cole, reminding us what really matters with "Love Me As Though There Were No Tomorrow." Because in New Vegas, hey, you never know.”_

Blinking, she raised her head to find she hadn’t been focusing on the path ahead. Her gaze so steadily focused on the dry earth below her feet as she continued onward, the desperation to find some assistance slowly becoming a muddled thought in her head. How long before the effects of the poison took hold? She was uncertain. Her memory had still been fuzzy from the weeks prior, and everything seemed to take it’s own sweet time in coming back. It was starting to seem like all those lessons she’d learned on survival in the Mojave with Sunny were nothing but a waste with current events.

From her side, Argon trailed along, seeming oblivious and content as ever to be by his companion. Wiping the bead of sweat from her brow, she focused her gaze on something dark in the upcoming distance. Billowing smoke clouds rising up from the ground, but unclear from the source, blocked by houses and rubble. The sight was quickly becoming execrable the closer she approached, but she still found herself holding steadfast onto hope as she continued. 

Torches burned alongside tattered crimson flags, a golden bull embroidered on it’s center. She squinted, trying to connect pieces or something of relevance for the symbol, but came up flat. It resonated something of importance, however.. Something that she felt she ought to know, but that, too, was temporarily lost on her. From her side, Agron released a vicious warning sound, his haunches arched and faced towards a figure dressed in blue running towards them. Between his proud, waving hand was a rectangular piece of paper. Though she could not make out the small, intricate writing, it’s edges appeared to be stained with blood. 

The man came to a stop just a ways in front of her, his eyes crinkled from behind smudged glasses as he grinned, seeming completely obvious to her pale and unwell state. 

"YEAH! Who won the lottery? I DID!"

Her mouth felt dry, and she squinted hard at the man. She _had_ to be hallucinating at this point.. there was no way this was real. The lottery? The fuck was he going on about? Pursing her lips, she willed words to come, all of them asking what the deal with this asshole was, but everything just came out in a serious a slurred murmurs. The lottery-willing man seemed unphased by this as he continued on, boasting over his winning.

"Smell that air! Couldn't you just drink it like booze?"

Everything was beginning to feel.. hot. Like she was running a fever that just wouldn’t break. The lottery man seemed to lose his interest in speaking with her, taking off somewhere in the opposite direction of Nipton, continuing his ramblings to himself as he went. If she had better judgment, given the circumstances, she would’ve pulled her 9mm out on him. Though as her fingers twitched at the area near her hip, she was momentarily reminded that she’d left the gun behind. 

Just her luck. The sound of fabric snapping in the wind drew her attention again, her gaze settled back on one of the crimson flags as if it was now demanding her attention. Or perhaps more.. heeding a warning. Disregarding both, she continued onward, passing between the two flags and piles of burnt remains as her vision blurred. The air smelt.. strange; sick, almost. She could feel herself choke trying to take a deep inhale, meekly attempting to further identify the origin. 

She wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate, and with the end growing nigh, so did her own self preservation. Her shoulder slumped against the door to one of the nearby homesteads, a heavy sigh of relief slipping from between her lips to find that the handle turned with ease, granting her access inside. Though the interior was anything but welcoming with it’s settled dust and stale scent, she found she could’ve cared less. 

An olive green chaise welcomed her collapsing form, and before she could even give second thought, fatigue threatened to envelop her. With her head hazy and clouded from the poison running through her veins, she found she no longer had any fight to give. 

At her side, Argon sniffed at a limp hand before pacing the span of the main room. His hackles raised and his tail rattled, sensing impending danger of sorts as his companion was slipping away into the grasp of eternal darkness. The last thought that slipped through her mind was one of her odds of waking up yet again to the face of Doctor Mitchell. Her weak, raspy laugher was the last thing heard throughout the house before everything fell quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. Having a bad night and just wanted to write. ♥️

“Reprehendo iterum.”

Vulpes’s gaze slid over to one of the Legionaries, nodding towards the last two homesteads that had yet to be turned over twice. While Oliver Swank had been granted pardon from the cleansing of Nipton, he wanted to be certain no others remained. 

No stone would be left unturned, and no sins would be exonerated. And thus began the next unfortunate chapter in courier six’s life; her first encounter with the Legion. More importantly, Vulpes Inculta.

The legionary who walked in on the sight of her almost lifeless body had simply chuckled, using the flat end of his machete blade to nudge the inside of her thigh. When prompted with no response, he crouched down close enough to grasp a fistful of hair from ontop her head, yanking backwards to reveal the pale visage of a rather exquisite young woman. 

Some clean up would definitely suffice. Dark red and violet shades ringed underneath her eyes, and what appeared to be vomit and saliva had dried down the corners of her lips, and the chaise her body was laying on. How unfortunate, however. Whoever she was, she had definitely not been part of the Nipton community. What would’ve been a perfect capture, had gone to waste. 

“Quid invenisti?”

Vulpes’s low voice resonating through the silence caused the startled legionary to release the fistful of golden hair he’d been holding, letting the courier’s head flop back down. A single, small moan of discomfort had captured both men’s attention, their gazes sliding in union to the presumed-deceased body. 

“She isn’t one of the Nipton profligates.”

The legionary moved back to grasp another fistful of hair, pulling to bare her face for Vulpes to catch a glimpse. The fox neared in, his gaze roaming over her form before settling over an area just underneath her bosom. The wound was easily recognizable by it’s form, though the blood seemed to have coagulated around the puncture area. How she was still alive was beyond Vulpes, but perhaps.. this showed potential.

“Fetch Atticus, and bring me more healing power.” 

Nodding briskly, the Legionary disappeared out from the homestead, leaving Vulpes alone. Raising a gloved hand, he gently brushed strands of hair out from the courier’s face, noting that while faint, she was still breathing. As his hand trailed down the outline of her form, resting over the Cazador’s puncture wound, his gaze slid over to watch her face contort into an expression of pain as he plunged his thumb into the opening.

The color of her eyes reminded Vulpes of gold as they opened wide, followed by her gurgling screams filling the empty space around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reprehendo iterum = Check again.  
> Quid invenisti? = What have you found?


End file.
